


I Wish You Were Here

by tipsyProhibitionist



Category: Glee
Genre: Sickfic, sick!blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tipsyProhibitionist/pseuds/tipsyProhibitionist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being sick was a rare occurrence in the Anderson household; everyone was always too busy to worry about anything as arbitrary as a stuffy nose or an achy head. Unfortunately, the majority of the time that the coin of chance landed on anything unfavorable, it involved Blaine, and now was no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first actual fic that I've written in a little over six months, so it is a bit rusty. If you catch any errors, please let me know so I can fix them. (: This takes place in Season 4 post breakup.

Blaine rolled over with a groan, the movement making him feel like he was spinning around and around on some carnival ride despite the fact that he was laying down. Being sick was a rare occurrence in the Anderson household; everyone was always too busy to worry about anything as arbitrary as a stuffy nose or an achy head. Unfortunately, the majority of the time that the coin of chance landed on anything unfavorable, it involved Blaine, and now was no exception.

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, trying to borrow further into his blankets (an impossible task, given that he was almost completely buried save for the top of his head). His brain throbbed against his skull in time to the ticking of the clock, reminding him of how his heart used to beat along with Kurt’s when he was still in Ohio. The two of them, laying together, bodies pressed flush together, completely in sync. Those were the moments that Blaine had decided he missed the most. The physical and emotional closeness was something entirely new to him, and he found that it was something he _needed_.

The only person who wanted to give him that anymore was Tina, but she wanted it in a different way. Blaine felt bad for leading her on, but he liked having a friend that he was close with other than Sam. Sam gave him back his mind. Tina gave him back his heart. He needed them to help fill the void. It wasn’t until after Kurt left for New York that Blaine realized just how alone he really was. Before, his day at school consisted of classes and Kurt, Kurt, _Kurt_. Minus the latter, everything became lonely. It made him question his decision to stay at McKinley. If all he had left were academics, why stay? Dalton’s courses were much more rigorous, and it looked better on college applications.

College applications were another challenge. Kurt had always been so sure about what he wanted to do.

“Aren’t you going to apply to anywhere else other than NYADA?” Blaine asked concernedly.

Kurt shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. “No, NYADA is the school that I’m going to go to. If I don’t get in this year, I’ll apply again. For the spring semester maybe.”

Blaine was another story entirely. He knew that he loved music, but he also knew (with the help of his parents) that it wasn’t always a profitable career choice. With every “are you _sure_ that this is what you want to do with your life?” his resolve crumbled. “Look at your brother,” they would say. “He’s only had _one_ successful job. Do you _really_ want to be featured in one commercial then work at a chain retail business for the rest of your life?”

Blaine sniffed, from congestion or tears he couldn’t decipher. Either way, it was not doing his headache any favors. Hauling himself out of bed was quite a task due to the current circumstances, but it had to be done. He shuffled into the bathroom and, leaning heavily on the counter, dug through the medicine cabinet for more ibuprofen. When he finally emerged with his prize after many accidental sacrifices of various containers into the sink, he found that he no longer had the strength to make it the twenty feet back to his bed. Sighing, Blaine sunk onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor and shook two of the green pills into his palm. With the aid of some water scooped sloppily into his mouth via his cupped hands, he swallowed the pills with minimal fire ignited in his throat.

It was a couple hours later that Blaine was awoken by his mother’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. She looked vaguely concerned, but Blaine couldn’t really tell due to the haze of both fever and sleep. He let her help him to his bed but waved off any other attempts at nurturing, and he relaxed gratefully into his mattress when her too warm hands left his forehead and her footsteps retreated down the stairs. The contrast between him, disheveled and pale, and his mother, perfectly starched and straight backed, was stark, doing nothing to help him forget what he didn’t have.

He rolled over, burrowing his head under a pillow before realizing that it only made his limited ability to breathe even more restricted and pushing the pillow off the bed. Blaine could deal with a headache and even a scratchy throat, but the _congestion_. The not being able to _breathe_. That was the worst part. Kurt was rarely sick, and when he was, Blaine wasn’t allowed to see him because Kurt was afraid of passing something on to him, but he was very good at taking care of Blaine when he wasn’t feeling well. Right now he wished he had had the good sense to go buy a humidifier after Kurt brought one over and Blaine discovered how well it helped clear his nose. That was the first time Blaine got a cold after they started dating, and Kurt’s company had been a godsend.

“Hey, B,” Kurt murmured, tiptoeing over to a nest of blankets with Blaine’s head sticking out. “How are you feeling?”

Blaine twisted to look at his boyfriend with puppy dog eyes. He shrugged, saying in a nasally voice, “Okay, I guess.”

Kurt’s mouth twisted in an effort to hide a grin as he raised an eyebrow. “Okay, you guess?

Pouting, Blaine flopped further back into his blanket nest and huffed, “Don’t be mean, I’m sick.”

Kurt laughed, climbing onto the couch next to Blaine. “I’m sorry. Really though, is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

“Weeeeeell,” Blaine wheedled. “I think your head scratches would help me regain my health much faster.”

“Of course they will,” Kurt smirked, rolling his eyes. Blaine was an absolute sucker for head scratches, and Kurt loved the way his boyfriend turned to putty as he slowly massaged his fingertips into the dark, curly hair.

He had just started to pull Blaine towards him when he remembered what Carol had given him. “Oh, hold on a second,” Kurt said, “I brought you something that I think will help you breathe.”

Kurt pushed himself up from the couch and disappeared into the mudroom, emerging a short while later with a humidifier in tow. Blaine watched him sleepily as he went about setting up the contraption, humming happily when Kurt finally settled himself back onto the couch and started carding his fingers through Blaine’s curls.

Blaine purred in contentment as his sinuses began to clear up, slowly scooting himself over so that he eventually ended up with his head in Kurt’s lap. Once he had settled into his new spot, he felt himself falling into a drug induced sleep.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, gazing up at Kurt though heavily lidded eyes.

“You are very welcome,” said Kurt quietly. “I love you.”

Blaine’s chest fluttered at the statement. He’d never get tired of hearing those words. “Love you too,” he breathed before the cold medicine overtook him.

This time he was sure the sniff was a result of tears. There was no way to miss the way they trailed scorching marks down the side of his face and onto the sheets. Without the ability to keep busy and _forget_ , the magnitude of how much Blaine missed Kurt hit him in full force, taking his motive to _keep going_ and ripping it apart bit by bit. It was like being stuck in a pit of tar, memories slowly trudging past in a thick, black paste. Even the good ones did more to dishearten than to comfort.

Before he could stop himself and really think things through, Blaine was reaching for his phone. His thumbs scrambled to hit the right keys, typing out “I’m sorry. I love you.” and hitting send.

A reply came just a few seconds later. “I know. I love you too.”


End file.
